


We Could Die Tomorrow

by onlyliquidsunshine



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Fake AH Crew, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 15:03:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4881358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyliquidsunshine/pseuds/onlyliquidsunshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's two in the morning and the early winter fog sweeps over the city of Los Santos, the city that the Fake AH Crew has worked towards owning. The famous Vagabond and Brownman watch over as the night falls to unusual eerie silence.</p><p>"We could die tomorrow."</p><p>"We could die tonight."</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Could Die Tomorrow

"We could die tomorrow." Ryan says after taking a long drag of his cigarette one night. Ray scoffs in response, jamming his hands under his armpits to try and retain some warmth.

"You say that every night."

"Because it's true." Ryan flicks the rest of his cigarette over the edge of the balcony, watching it fall to the ground. "We could die tomorrow and we're spending tonight staring over a balcony pretending that we have nothing better to do."

"That's cause we don't have anything better to do." Ray laughs, his breath coming out in a puff of fog. Ryan is silent and Ray can tell that he's not satisfied with his answer.

It's two in the morning and the early winter fog sweeps over the city of Los Santos, the city that the Fake AH Crew has worked towards owning. The famous Vagabond and Brownman watch over as the night falls to unusual eerie silence.

"We have the whole city in our hands, and we are standing here, waiting for the morning that we die." Ryan huffs, crossing his arms.

"You know Geoff doesn't like pulling heists during winter," Ray complains. "Guns lock up, and joints freeze. It's risky and uncomfortable."

"It's not winter yet."

"Yeah? Tell that to my frozen fingers." Ray wiggles a hand in front of them, noting how his fingers are alarmingly close to the same color of his favorite purple hoodie. After a moment, Ray sighs, bumping his shoulder against Ryan's. "Let's go inside. Get some sleep."

"We can sleep when we're dead." Is Ryan's immediate response. Ray lets out a long breath, hanging his head in defeat. Most nights he can convince Ryan to stay in for the time, leaving the city and its people in peace.

Though tonight it seems that Ryan is restless, his fingertips itching to cause chaos and let his adrenaline run free.

"A simple convenience store, but that's it." Ray caves. It's worth it though when Ryan beams at him, his eyes lighting up enough that the city lights could go out and it would be okay.

"I'll grab my mask. Get the keys to the bike." Ray nods, shoving any trace of exhaustion down until he barely notices it.

The key is already in his pocket, but he doesn't tell Ryan that, instead waiting until his partner is deep into the apartment before making his way to the garage.

Ray takes a couple of minutes every night hiding the key to Ryan's favorite motorcycle, afraid that he'll go off one night without Ray and do something reckless, getting himself killed.

He tells himself that it has nothing to do with his fear that Ryan is going to up and leave one night.

Ryan meets him down there about ten minutes later, black face paint carelessly smeared across his eyes and his smile thirsty for blood.

"We could die tomorrow," he reminds Ray, handing him a bike helmet.

"We could die tonight," he grumbles, tossing the helmet to the side. It fucks with his peripherals anyways.  

Following Ryan's lead, he swings his leg over the bike, scooting forward till his chest is against Ryan's back and he is able to wind his arms tightly around his waist.

Ryan slips on his favorite skull mask and starts the bike, sending the two into the empty streets of their city.

Ray expects them to go to the second closest convenience store to them, but Ryan surprises him by speeding past it, swerving through roads that he's not all too familiar with.

 _'It was supposed to be a quick robbery,'_ he thinks, trying not to get frustrated with the man in front of him. To be fair, that particular store does get a lot of abuse from the Fake AH Crew, so it was probably a good idea to leave it alone for a bit.

With that in mind, he stuffs his hands in Ryan's jacket, palms flat against Ryan's side stealing any heat that his shirt has to offer. The wind combs through his hair and leans his cheek against his back watching as the city whirls by him.

 _'It's a fucking shame that leather jackets don't radiate heat.'_ He thinks.

The store Ryan has chosen is about twenty or so minutes away, to the outskirts of town where Ray doesn't recognize a single street name. Ryan parks close to the door of the store, killing the engine and pocketing the key.

Ray hesitates. This isn't their territory and the crew could get in a lot of unwanted trouble if the two tonight are discovered.

"Problem?" Ryan asks when he sees that Ray isn't following him in.

"This isn't our turf, Ry." And while he can't see it, he's sure Ryan is raising an eyebrow under the mask. "If we're caught, it could mean a whole lot of trouble."

"Good," Ryan breathes out, eyes twinkling. He hands Ray a gun identical to his from his jacket, indicating that they were doing this no matter what now.

Ray takes the weapon, pocketing it and walking in a couple seconds after Ryan. They have a system, the two of them. Ryan walks tall and confident to the register, picking up a pack of smokes on the way and slamming it on the counter. Ray lingers around, examining snacks and other trinkets, staying behind as backup when needed.

Every cashier is the same, too predictable and too easy going in this town. They grab Ryan's things without question and turn to scan it under the register. It's always in that moment of vulnerability that Ryan pulls his gun, aiming directly at the cashier's head.

Tonight is no different, the only exception being the cashier. This one is an old Asian man with thick glasses and greying hair. He looks like he owns the place, but Ray doesn't feel bad for him.

He's picking up a bag of sour cream Lays chips when he hears Ryan's gun click accompanied by the famous saying, "just give me all the money in the register and no one will get hurt." Ray looks up then to see the cashier staring at him with big pleading eyes. This always happens too. The people in the store never assume that Ray is with Ryan, so they stare at him silently begging for him to call the police. He slowly pulls out his phone, watching as hope filters through the cashier's eyes before violently ripping it away by simply taking a picture and pocketing the device again.

"Are you deaf? Put the money in the bag! Now!" Ryan shouts, jabbing the gun against the victim's head. Ray sees the man flinch out of the corner of his eye, shaking as he opens the register and starts shoving the bills into the bag.

He pockets the bag of chips along with a snickers bar before heading towards the door clicking the safety off his own gun. He doesn't hear sirens yet, but it doesn't hurt to be prepared for the possibility of some random passerby walking in.

"Please," the cashier whimpers, handing over the bag of money then raising his hands above his head.

"It was a pleasure doing business with you." Ryan purrs, the gunshot echoing through the empty store followed by the thud of the cashiers body hitting the ground. Ryan walks up behind Ray, resting his hand on the small of his back.

"Smile at the camera," he says, gesturing with his gun towards the security camera that they over looked when first walking in. Ray does as he's told, grinning wide, even going as far to give it a little wave before whipping his gun from his pocket and shooting it directly in the center of the lense.

Ryan laughs, guiding Ray out of the store and back to the bike. They are in no rush as the police aren't after them yet, but Ray doesn't doubt that Ryan hit the panic button inside the shop himself after obtaining the money.

He has always loved the thrill in the chase.

Ray hops on the bike after Ryan, winding one arm around his waist while the other one hangs limply by his side still holding the gun.

"Ready?" Ryans voice rumbles through his chest, the aftershock vibrating through Rays arm. Ray hums in response, twisting his fingers in Ryans shirt.

The city is still oddly quiet as they speed off from the scene of the crime. For the first time since Ray has moved here, the only sound is the engine of the motorcycle speeding down the street. There are no police sirens, no shouting, or even gunshots and screams. Just quiet.

Winter seemed to have snuck up on the city this year, silencing it with its thick fog and icy air.

Ray is interrupted from his deep philosophical thoughts when Ryan suddenly jerks the bike to the right, almost throwing Ray off the vehicle.

"Ryan-!" He shouts, momentarily forgetting about the gun in his hand and opting to wrap both his arms around the other man's waist.

"Hold on," Ray barely heard above the roar of wind in his ear. They serpentine through the street a bit until Ryan whips the vehicle harshly to the left, entering a deserted alleyway.

"Ryan what the hell," Ray questions, pulling back once the bike is stopped.

"Sh," Ryan shushes, pulling Ray after him off the bike. He backs Ray into the wall until his back is pressed against it and Ryan's chest is flushed against his.

“Uh, as much as I love making out in empty alleyways, and don’t get me wrong, I totally do, I just don’t think that now is the proper time.”

“Ray, shut up.” Ryan hisses, and Ray snaps his jaw closed immediately, his hand tightening on his gun. Something has clearly spooked Ryan, which is alarming all on its own because Ryan doesn’t spook easily. A couple of seconds past before Ray can hear the sirens. They’re faint, but headed this way quickly none the less. Ray raises his arm towards the street, aiming the gun at the street prepared to shoot any cop that came by snooping.

They must looked rather strange, the two of them. A man in a skull mask with a leather jacket using his body to shield a man who is wearing a purple hoodie with a gun pointed to the street. The two are concealed by the shadows that the building they're pressed up against provides, but a shadow isn’t an ideal form of cover if it does turn to a fire fight.

Ray really hope it doesn’t turn to that.

Three minutes pass. Three minutes of Ryan breathing heavily against his neck, his chest heaving against his in a steady rhythm. Three minutes of his arm pressed against the wall with his finger on the trigger. Three minutes before the single police car comes whizzing by.

The two of them tense, Ray even going as far as to slightly squeeze the trigger, but the police car passes them without a second glance. Once they can confirm that the cop car is far enough that they can get back on the road without trouble, Ryan steps away from Ray, sucking in a huge breath and rubbing his hand on the back of his neck.

“Avoided that like pros.” He mumbles, not looking Ray in the eye.

“Yeah,” Ray drops his hand, only now noticing that his entire arm is numb. “What was that about? We usually take them head on and treat it like sport. That’s why you always press the panic button in the stores. So we can get some fun out of it.”

“A simple convenience store, but that’s it.” Ryan echoes from earlier, still refusing to meet Ray’s eye.

“What? What does that even mean?” Ryan sighs angrily, making a point now to pin Ray down with his stare.

“I didn’t press the button. I didn’t plan for those cops to come.You wanted to make it simple, so I made it simple.”

“Oh,” Ray breathes out, too shocked to say anything else. After a moment of them just staring at each other like idiots, Ryan breaks the gaze heading back towards the bike.

“C’mon. We should get back.”

“Yeah okay,” Ray agrees, still a little dazed.

The two don’t speak again for the rest of the ride back. Ryan decided to take a different route in caution of the unexpected cops, which Ray appreciated despite it taking longer to get back to their apartment. Thirty minutes later, they pull up back in their garage, Ryan still refusing to look at Ray as he killed the engine and helped him off the bike.

Ray followed closely behind Ryan as they walked back into the apartment, not noticing how _cold_ he was greeted with a gust of artificial heat when Ryan opened the door.

“Oh,” Ray moaned, shoving past his partner to be completely engulfed in the warmth. “Oh _god_. We are never going out during winter again. We are going to stay in here where it is warm. And where I can feel my toes. Wait. Oh god Ryan I can’t feel my toes right now.”

Ryan laughs as he walks past him, going into the kitchen and throwing the money bag and his mask on the table as if they were just a bag of groceries. The black facepaint has spread up to Ryan’s forehead and down to his cheeks, giving off the look that he just made it out of a dirty chimney. Ray walks forward, rubbing his hands together trying to create enough friction to get some blood flowing back into them. Ryan looks up when Ray approaches, and he places his frozen fingers Ryan’s cheeks, rubbing off some of the paint with his thumbs.

“Need help taking that off?” He asks, giving Ryan a small smile. Ryan shakes his head, taking his hands in his own.

“Nah, I’ve got it. Just go get changed, I’ll join you later.” Ray nods before taking his hands back and walking off to the bedroom. He strips off his jeans, shirt and hoodie, carelessly littering them on the floor, shivering as he makes it to the dresser to pull out a pair of pajamas. He opts for a pair of sweatpants and cotton shirt, still too cold to justify going to bed.

Curling into himself, Ray started to make his way over to the closet, concluding that since Ryan was the reason he was this cold, it only made sense that he provide the solution. Opening the door, Ray turned to Ryan’s designated side of the closet, pulling his personal favorite pullover hoodie.

“Fucking nice,” he mumbled to himself, tugging the sweater on. Ryan’s sweaters already swallowed Ray in size, but this specific one was bigger than Ryan, resulting in this sweater becoming the equivalent of a blanket for Ray. Once satisfied with how it was fitted, Ray walked towards the bed, throwing his glasses on the nightstand and burrowing himself into the comforter.

He listened to Ryan in the bathroom run the water and scrub off the leftover face paint. Turning to face the door when he heard the water switch off, he watched as a blurry image of Ryan walked into the room, already in a pair of sweatpants, heading towards the closet.

“Ray, have you seen my sweater-?” He asked, turning around. His face falling flat when he saw Ray curled into the missing article of clothing. “Oh.”

“Yeah. I’m cold because of you, so I get to wear it.”

“I see,” Ryan said, walking back towards the bed. “You know, that could be considered stealing.”

“Please. We just robbed a convenience store and killed the guy at the register. Borrowing a hoodie is incomparable.”

“Borrowing,” Ryan repeated, crawling under the covers.

“Borrowing.” Ray confirms, immediately curling into Ryan.

“We got about eight hundred dollars from that place.” Ryan mentions, wrapping an arm protectively around Ray.

“Sweet,” Ray yawns, pulling the blanket tighter around them.

“We could die today,” Ryan reminds him, his voice quiet.

“You say that every morning,” he responds, part of him aware how similar this conversation is to the one only a couple of hours ago. Ryan hums, and the duo eventually falls asleep with the sun rising over Los Santos and Ryan's notion haunting their dreams. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Feel free to find me at http://dean-can-dig-elvis.tumblr.com/


End file.
